


A New Road

by sewer_seance



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Genre: 1920’s, Cute boys, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluffy, Jay Gatsby Lives, M/M, POV gatsby, Semi Slow Burn, Slow realization, book setting but no one dies because they’re too busy being gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-04-27 21:15:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14434233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewer_seance/pseuds/sewer_seance
Summary: Jay Gatsby is furiously in love with Daisy Buchanan. Except, recently, he hasn’t been as focused on the “love of his life”. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t figure out why he isn’t quite like himself. Luckily for him, Nick is there by his side ready to figure this out with him, going on various little escapades. Neither even consider that Nick himself would be the source of Gatsby’s distraction.





	1. A Different Kind of Smile

    Jay stood at his window, staring across the bay. On a clear night, he could comfortably gaze at the green light from this refuge. Not tonight. If he tried hard enough, he could trick himself into thinking he saw a faint glimmer of green through the fog. Gatsby has always been good at seeing and making others see what wasn’t really there. Unconsciously, he pressed his hand against the cooling glass, only the tips of his noncommittal fingers. He felt this tingle, a constant surge of thrill. The thrill of Daisy Buchanan, always tantalizing him, just beyond his reach.

    That’s what it had to be. It had to be Daisy. It always was Daisy. The cause of his aching chest, of his watchful gaze. That old burn was now rekindled with Nick, bringing him closer to Daisy and the green light than he had ever been before.

    “Mr. Gatsby?”

    “Now old sport, you know you can call me Jay,” Gatsby turned and smiled at his guest, timidly knocking on the parlor door.

    “Is something the matter? You’ve called me over here pretty late…”

    “No! No, nothing. Take a seat.” Gatsby gestured to a plush day sofa. Nick smiled as he accepted his neighbor’s offer. Jay became slightly aware of his own heartbeat knocking against his chest. Nick had his cousin’s eyes. So alike, but so so different. Bright, but mild and assured. Not the beguiling intoxicating nature of Daisy’s. Nick unconsciously put a hand to his hair, pulling a little on a loose lock near his ear and smiled at Gatsby again.

    Nick Carraway had five smiles. The fact that Gatsby could recognize and identify them all was something he was quite proud of. First, _The Impersonal_  : used for nodding at people in the street or at parties. Just in passing, his lips would ever so slightly turn up at one corner; it was more acknowledgment most people gave each other in New York. Second, _The_ _Polite_. Small and ever so soft, it was the natural look that dawned his face whenever he was listening: to people at the office, to the card players at parties, to Gatsby whenever he spoke of Daisy.

    Third, _The_ _Unsure_. An awkward smile, pained almost when he wasn’t sure what to make of a situation, but still not wanting to seem rude. He was wary, but open to explanation or willing to push through the tense situation that brought on the Unsure. This was Nick’s smile now.

    Gatsby sat just across from him, looking at his tight lips and upturned eyebrows. Nick only grew more uncomfortable the longer they sat in silence. “Pretty heavy fog,” he finally said, followed by the soft clicking of his tongue. He looked down at his hands. “Old sport, do you ever think, what is this all for? What should we be striving for?”

    “Well….that’s a bit heavier than the fog.”

    Gatsby smiled and shook his head. “Come on now, you’re a writer. Tell me, what do you think it’s all for?”

    “What’s all for...what?”

    “Daisy.”

    “Ah.”

     Nick rubbed his hands along his trousers again. He looked up at Gatsby, opened his mouth, closed it, looked back down and muttered something. A moment later: “Could you rephrase? I don’t understand the question?” There was something in his manner, Gatsby wasn’t sure what, that said he knew exactly what the question was asking. But he was never one to push his friend. “Never mind it.” Nick, sensing the downcast atmosphere tried to peek things up. “How about Coney Island? We can go, since this time it isn’t an hour before dawn.” Smile four, _The_ _Sass_. Gatsby smirked back at the memory of the confused Nick driving in, and Gatsby eagerly inviting him to go. Coney Island had seemed so appealing right then and there, but only if it was with Nick. “Or we can go tomorrow, if you’re not feeling up to it?” Nick offered after Gatsby didn’t answer after a while.

   “Well, there’s an idea,” Gatsby perked up but he looked out the window at the steadily thickening fog. “Perhaps tomorrow morning, Old Sport.”

    “It’s a date!” Nick nodded definitively. Gatsby’s heart clenched and relaxed at the same time. More time with Nick might mean more time with Daisy...but that wasn’t quite what caused his stomach to jump happily when Nick gave him a flash of smile number five: _The Raw_. A smile unplagued by formality. Just purely Nick, purely happy. It was Gatsby’s favorite smile.

***

After keeping Nick far too late (“I’ll be sleeping until noon unless I leave right now.”), Jay was extra chipper the next morning. They had talked of nonsense, most of it going beyond Nick’s understanding or belief but he smiled and nodded anyways, glad to be in the company of Gatsby. With much consideration and internal debate, Gatsby settled on a cream double breasted suit and sunny tie.

    He drove the short distance to his neighbor’s driveway, honked and shouted, “Rise and shine, Old Sport!” Nick emerged, eyes still sleep ridden and a little less kept than usual but dashing all the same. He propped his usual boater over his fluff of bed head and hopped into Gatsby’s car. “Coney Island! Let’s go!” Nick smiled, waking up even more by the second.

    Gatsby roared off, fast enough to make Nick hold onto his hat. There was nothing more Jay loved than zipping down these familiar roads: the adrenaline, the stares he got. Just him and Nick, on display for the rest of the world to be envious of. He looked over to see Nick, caught between enjoying the speed and being fearful that Jay might lose control of the car. “At ease, Old Sport. I know what I’m doing.” And he sped up.

     “You ever been to Coney?”

    “Uh, not yet. I’ve seen but I’ve never got the chance yet!” Nick shouted above the wind.

    “Well, Old Sport, then you haven’t seen New York yet! What’s a summer in the city without a little fun at Coney?”

     Gatsby watched almost anxiously as they drew nearer, satisfaction settling in as Nick grew more excited. “Now,” Gatsby said with a smirk, “Let me show you how to have a good time.”

    “I know how to have a good time,”Nick said in retaliation, offended that Gatsby would ever think otherwise. Jay laughed. “Alright, office man. Let me show you how to have a _real_ good time.” With that, the car pulled to a stop. Gatsby hurried to the other side to let Nick out of the car. “You’ve brought your suit, Old Sport?” Nick nodded as they headed toward the beach. Gatsby paid the fee, dodged Nick’s insistence on paying him back and directed him toward the changing rooms.

    The water was cold, but they dove in anyways, Nick wading back out sooner than Gatsby, looking a little like a drowned puppy. “Don’t enjoy swimming?” Jay followed after a bit longer. He would hate to think that Nick wasn’t having fun so far on the Island. Nick shook his head, little flecks of water sparkling off. “No, I like it just fine.” He smiled up at Gatsby, though shuddering. “Come on. Let’s get you in something dry,” Gatsby laughed, pulling Nick up by his (soft. What? No. Normal) hand.

     Jay treated them to some ice cream as they perused the boardwalk. He caught himself staring numerous times as Nick swiveled his head back and forth across the colorful crowds and attractions. _How_ _adorable_. That was when a slightly devious idea popped into Gatsby’s head. He grasped Nick’s hand and started pulling him along, ignoring the electric chill of Nick’s hand which had been holding the ice cream. At least, it had to be the chill. Why else would holding his hand seem strange? “Old Sport, do I have the best surprise for you.”

    It was called The Giant Racer and the roar of its cars over the tracks set Gatsby’s bones rattling. During the day, the spectacle of its bright lights were hidden, but Gatsby knew they were there. Nick paled at the sight of it and froze. “We’re - we’re not getting on that that thing?” He stammered quietly. Gatsby put on arm around him and led him on slowly. “Don’t you trust me? I would never do anything to hurt you!” Nick looked doubtful for a second and the shadow of something dark, something secret, passed over his face. Gatsby stored that away for later introspection. “Come on Old Sport! Live a little!” And with that they entered the building.

    Nick stayed fretful the entire wait, continuously shifting his weight, chewing on nails, lifting his hat and playing with his hair before Jay finally grabbed his hand to still his fidgeting. That only seemed to make Nick more nervous. Jay squeezed his hand supportively right before boarding. Front row. “I’m not too sure about this,” he muttered again as he eyed the flimsy seat belt locking them in. Gatsby took hold of his hand again. “Trust me.” Nick glanced over at him. More than glanced. Held his gaze firmly, searching for affirmation before settling back against the stiff wood seat. “I do.”  

    And they were off. Roaring and teetering at heights and speeds that Nick had never known. He couldn’t help the shout of fear as they mounted their first hill and tumbled down along the tracks. Gatsby laughed, raising his hands, and one of Nick’s along with his. There was nowhere else he’d rather be, or with anyone else. Daisy was blown out of his mind with the high winds and the sound of Nick’s scream turning to uneasy laughter, then to a _beautiful_ full belly laugh. He cheered with Gatsby as they went around the last bend and into the station. Gatsby looked to his left, eager to take in his friend’s expression. What he found caught him off guard, his heart skipping a few beats and air avoiding him.

    Hair wind blown back and full, the once styled hair was now pushed attractively off his forehead. _And his face_. It was nothing like Gatsby had seen before. Eyes wide and bright, all the life of the universe trapped in one rapturous look. His cheeks were flushed from the excitement and his smile was wide, open with pearly teeth and trapped in silent laughter. He _glowed_. Glowed brighter than all the lights in Gatsby’s house, all the lights in the city, all the lights in America. Brighter than the green light had ever glowed. “We have to do that again!” He breathed out on the scent of chocolate ice cream. Gatsby could only nod. Nick had a new smile and it was Gatsby’s new favorite: _The Sensational._


	2. A Different Kind of Daisy

Jay couldn’t even wait for a full day to pass before he made plans with Nick again. “How about tea tomorrow afternoon, Old Sport?” He had suggested eagerly as Nick had clambered out of his car yesterday evening. “Sure!” Nick had answered with enthusiasm before his face fell from The Sensational for a moment. “I suppose you would like me to invite Daisy?” Gatsby blinked. He hadn’t thought of Daisy all day. A first. Her coy and alluring voice had been replaced with the warmth of Nick’s hand as they rode every single coaster. “If you want to,” Gatsby had supplied. Seeing Daisy… that was the end goal wasn’t it?

Yes. Tea with Nick and Daisy would be nice again. Still, no matter how he tried to build up the idea in his mind the next morning, it refused to click. He went back and forth between nervous excitement to a dampened sort of happy. He stormed in his head, waiting to see what emotion would win out as he strolled over to Nick’s.

  
Gatsby loved Nick’s house. So private, peaceful. It was beautiful in its simplicity, humming with a secretive thrill. There was so much life hidden in the abundant bushes and trees which shaded it. Gatsby has felt special that he had could visit, that it’s subtle mystery was only open to him. He chuckled to himself. He couldn’t help but think that this was the perfect house for his friend. Their personalities matched. A man’s personality should always match the personality of his house. He rapped on the front door and didn’t have to wait long.

  
There was Nick, all dolled up simply for tea: his hair swooped over in that specific way that Gatsby had always been sweet on, cream bow tie, and to switch it up a little, Nick wore a blue vest (a change from his favorite green hues, but not much).

“Gatsby!”

“Hello, Old Sport!”

Gatsby clasped his hand and pulled him (stumbled him) into a short half hug. More of a pat on the back. “Don’t you look all Hotsy-totsy!” Nick’s ears went dark red and he waved Gatsby’s compliment off too quickly.

  
“Have you been waiting for me long?”

  
“Not at all! Come in, come in!”

Nick ushered Gatsby into his considerably humble abode. Today was much nicer than the first time they had tea. Warm, but not too hot, the sun sparkling attractively through open windows. The salt of the bay drifted in and mixed with the flora surrounding Nick’s house. Utopia.

“I thought we might have tea out back, since it’s so nice today.”

“Excellent idea.”

Gatsby was feeling himself start to clamp up again. Nick looked absolutely spiffing, with his sleeves pushed up his forearms, occasionally pushing back some rambunctious hair as he gathered some cakes. But Gatsby didn’t want to leave him, go out back by himself. Daisy would be there. And Gatsby couldn’t see Daisy. (Couldn’t. That’s what he told himself. Couldn’t see her. He’d always want to see her. But now, he didn’t want to. He, Jay Gatsby, didn’t want to see Daisy Buchanan. No, not didn’t want. Couldn’t). So instead, he waited just outside the kitchen, watching Nick. Then it was time to go to the garden. Gatsby held his breath, but as he looked around while Nick set up plates, there was no sign of Daisy.

  
The clinking of dishes stopped. “Oh,” Nick said. Gatsby could hear the flush in his voice. “Daisy isn’t coming.” When Gatsby gave Nick a questioning look, he busied himself with the plates again (even though they were already set up).

“Couldn’t make it. Too short notice.” He mumbled as he played with a spoon. He glanced over to see Gatsby’s reaction. Relief flooded Gatsby and he laughed and lounged next to Nick.

“Perfectly alright Old Sport. Your company is good enough for me!” Nick looked back down again, smiling his coy smile and was that...a blush Gatsby saw? Gatsby smiled into his tea.

  
The afternoon passed smoothly. Nothing but dappled sunshine and pleasant, sleepy conversation. Nick offered Gatsby some cake, proud of the selection. He couldn’t help but notice how easily pleased Nick was. After Coney yesterday, he didn’t demand anything bigger, crave another adventure. Just sitting there in the shade of the tree was enough for him. Gatsby was enough for him. Gatsby frowned at his cup. Gatsby was enough. Jay Gatsby, not James Gatz.

  
“Jay, is everything alright?” Nick’s brows were knit together in concern at his friend’s sudden silence. Damn, he had the most doleful puppy eyes when he was worried.

“I was just pondering.”

  
“Is it that something to do with that question two nights ago? The ‘what is it all for’?”

  
“In a way. When all is said and done, what have I actually done with my life?”

  
“Pursued a married woman like no one ever has before.” There was that smile again. More of a grin, The Sass. Gatsby shook his head in a chuckle, but couldn’t help but think Nick was right. Was all he could claim to his life the pursuit of a married woman? Nick stretched and stood up.

“Why don’t you ankle around with me for a bit, stretch out those eggy leggys.” Gatsby couldn’t help but laugh again and join Nick in his little venture around his yard.

  
“You asked me, ‘what is it all for?’ And yes, fifty years from now, it could be for nothing. Everything about Jay Gatsby could have dropped from the earth. I doubt it, but maybe.” Nick fell silent for a while, watching Jay carefully. “But that’s not what it’s all about. You’re not living for somebody fifty years from now. You’re living for yourself. I guess that’s what it’s all for. Do what you want to do, go where you want to go. And if along the way you touch the lives of others around you,” Nick paused here again and took a furtive glance at Gatsby, “then bonus. If how you live is by giving to other people, then do that. If how you live is giving to yourself, then do that. But everything you do, you do for yourself.” Nick stopped talking for good this time, thinking that he had just rambled nonsense at someone who was expecting a straight answer.

Gatsby stopped walking and turned to face Nick head on. “You’re right, Old Sport,” he whispered. Startled, Nick held his gaze. “I think, I think I have to go now,” Gatsby whispered again.

“Alright then,” Nick agreed, his voice softer than usual. Almost Daisy soft, but it was not a mischievous, flirtatious soft like hers. It was broken, like a scolded child. Then, louder, a little more confident and a little more masked, “Take a cake with you. I can’t possibly eat the rest by myself.” Gatsby nodded as he swiped a cake and headed through the garden gate.

“I’ll see you around, Old Sport!” Nick raised his hand in return before silently returning to his house.

  
Gatsby held the cake gently in one hand, staring down at the mini sugar daisy placed on top for decoration. He smiled before plucking it off the top and popping it in his mouth. The sugar melted on his tongue and he smiled, thinking nothing of Daisy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While doing research for this chapter I found the cutest term for someone who was gay in the 20’s: cake-eater. I just love 20’s jargon. It’s the.....bee’s knees.


	3. A Different Kind of Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while but here’s a nice little chapter for you all! I’ve got a pretty busy week ahead but I’m gonna try to bust out another chapter before the week is out!

He couldn’t remember if it was Nick’s or his own idea. No matter who had hatched the plot, the picnic with Daisy and Jordan was happening. Jordan had found the spot, a place she had stumbled across while whacking a few balls for practice: a secluded sun kissed bump that was just tall enough to offer a view of the bay. The day ended up being perfect picnic weather. Daisy and Nick certainly seemed pleased with the way the sun kept peaking around the occasional cloud. Tom couldn’t make it, much to Gatsby’s pleasure. Business in the city was his excuse. They all pretended to be none the wiser about the “business” he had planned for the day. Especially Daisy. She was determined to enjoy this day, her laugh almost musical as it climbed the hill with them.

Gatsby, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to get rid of an uneasiness that had settled like a cache of rocks at the bottom of his stomach. He should be happy, laughing along with the woman he loved, soaking up the sun, soaking up certain smiles. There was food and good conversation. But no matter his efforts, he couldn’t get into the spirit of things.

He eyed Daisy curiously. Something must have changed about her that would cause him to miss that lurch in his gut from her coy glances. To his confusion, she was still the same Daisy. Hair deliciously dark and styled just so...Gatsby didn’t find it delicious anymore. It was lacking. In what he didn’t know. Her locks seemed so familiar, the lingering of a warm feeling in his chest. He furiously tried to remember of what her hair reminded him.

Gatsby chewed unenthusiastically as the others chittered away. With a panic, he realized that her hoarse, luring whisper no longer thrilled him. Daisy pulled Jordan away for some “devious gossip”, leaving Gatsby deep in thought with Nick at his side.

“What’s the matter? Bad food?”

Gatsby laughed as he was pulled out of his reverie. How endearing that Nick’s first worry was the quality of the food he brought. It was the first time that Gatsby had really laughed that day.

“No it’s swell. I’m just in a stink,” Gatsby tapped his head. Nick chewed the inside of his lip, working up the courage to ask something.

“Are you upset I invited Daisy? I thought you’d-”

“What?”

Nick fiddled almost nervously with a few grapes as Gatsby stared him down. Annoyingly, he refused to meet Gatsby’s gaze.

“Of course I’m not upset, Old Sport!”

Nick finally looked up. “You haven’t smiled once this entire day! And look at how beautiful it is!”

Gatsby was indeed looking. “I’m smiling now aren’t I?” He nudged his shoulder playfully. Nick flushed a little at the playful affection.

“It’s not your normal smile,” Nick mumbled. Gatsby perked up.

“My normal smile?” He scooted closer to put on the pressure. “What do you mean by that, Old Sport?”

Nick sputtered. The grapes slipped unceremoniously from his hand. “I’m, I’m not sure what, what I mean!” He stood up suddenly, nearly tripping on himself in the process. Pity he didn’t. That would’ve launched him into Gatsby’s lap and he could use another hard laugh. He watched Nick retreat over a little ways away to join the ladies, resembling a bird that had been nudged off its perch.

Not his usual smile. Could Nick have done the same thing Gatsby had and made intensive notes about his smile? His own grin widened at the thought. He popped one of Nick’s grapes into his mouth. He dared to wink when he caught Nick looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Nick looked back to listen to Jordan’s story quickly, cheeks slightly more red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend has always portrayed Nick as a very pastel gay and I think it’s going to wear off on me in this fic....


	4. A Different Kind of City

There's nothing quite like the nightlife of New York City. Towers of steel glistening brighter than stars, jazz so colorful you can practically see it on the wind as it wails out of the clubs. If you knew where to go, you could find a pretty skirt to chase, lively conversation, and the finest cocktail. Being a bootlegger made you popular in such places. Speakeasies weren't always Gatsby's favorite. When they first surfaced, they were dingy, but it was where he made all that green. But now they had boomed, the center of which the rest of New York spun around. And thanks to Wolfsheim, he knew where the best of best were. Every so often, Gatsby would get a craving to get out, to be in the midst of the crowd. Not to partake in the drinks, but to partake in the people. But there is no greater reminder of loneliness than being in a crowded room.

Right before day turns to night and the sky lights on fire, Gatsby looked out over to the city horizon. That inescapable urge latched onto his heart, tugging him nearly off the balcony. He needed to get out, out of the cathedral-esque halls where it was too empty. A bitter thought told him that the empty would stay with him. It wasn't his house that felt empty. Tonight would be a good night to go out. The day had been hot and muggy; the night seemed to be no different but driving to the city would put the wind behind him and rush about his ears. It would leave the empty behind and fill it with that wind.

He dressed in his sleekest suit: a fine specimen, from his oxfords to his collar. Gatsby straightened a rather spiffing tie, blue with gold woven throughout. It still didn't look right, feel right. He shrugged off the feeling like he might shrug off a coat. He began to drive out, but not to the main road. Out of habit, he found himself rounding the corner into Nick's driveway. With a jolt of...something (happiness?) he spotted that fantastic Nick Carraway, lounging on his porch lazily perusing the paper. Nick had that casual comforting look of a hot summer's day, tie and vest undone and laid back, gently pushing the swing with one foot. His head snapped up at the roar of Gatsby's automobile.

"And where might you be off to, Jay?" He shouted over the engine, smile quickly growing onto his thin face.

"Hopefully somewhere exciting. You're coming aren't you, Old Sport?"

Nick folded the paper in his lap and gestured to his state of undress. "Ah yes. You can see I was prepared for a night out." He rolled his eyes in a teasing way.

"You look rather darb to me! Come on, Old Sport! Don't be such a cancelled stamp!"

Nick flushed and sputtered, retreating into his house. Gatsby waited, leaning against his car as the sun got lower and lower, trading in the fire of earlier for an inky purple. Finally, Nick returned. Gatsby got off his car, straightening his own tie, eyes trained completely on Nick.

He was wearing what Gatsby assumed was his best suit. The black coat and pant fit snugly on his frame, in a, Gatsby had to admit, extremely flattering (attractive) way. He strolled up to Gatsby, stuck somewhere between confidence and self-consciousness under his intense glare. Nick reached out and rearranged Gatsby's tie. "Why'd you do that? It was perfectly straight before I came out," Nick tutted.

"Well, what can you do," Gatsby hummed in return, trained on Nick's face. There was a moment, just them with the multicolored sky before Nick stepped back with a cough. "What did you have in mind?" He cleared his throat again. Gatsby opened the car door wide open, a wolfish grin coming to his lips he was sure. "Nothing at all."

***

Behind a back alley door and down dark stairs was a world glimmering in scandal and crime, thriving on a city of sinners. And yet, there was no hint that this was a den of cons. Tables lit by candles, the low light of a dance floor, sparkling glasses and the best jazz in the country. Nick faltered in the doorway, taking in the sheer expanse. "It looks like how a dream feels," Gatsby heard him mutter. With a chuckle, he put his arm around Nick's shoulders. "Let me show you around." Nick let himself be steered around the speakeasy, snatching a cocktail on the way. Servers walked around with trays of canapés of lobster, cheese, and pastry. There was no such thing as time in here: just dance, conversation, and Nick.

Gatsby soaked up the man before him in a way he had never done before, his continual gaze hidden by the dim lighting. Yes, he had watched Nick often enough to know his face and his pattern of expressions, but he could only watch in his mind's eye. Never had he caught the live show. Now he couldn't look away. He couldn't look away from the flecks of blue in his otherwise grey eyes that he hadn't noticed before. He couldn't look away from the slight wave in his hair by his left ear that Nick always tugged on when nervous. He couldn't look away from the way Nick's eyes would flit to Gatsby, only to look away just as quickly when he was caught looking. During a lull in the conversation, Nick looked Gatsby in the eye again, but didn't look away this time, face glowing in the candlelight. Gatsby had to resist leaning forward, like a moth to a flame. A new song started up, but the gaze held.

"Say, Old Sport, do you know the Charleston?" A quick swing brought a new crowd onto the dance floor, giddy on giggle water. 

"Yes?" Nick leaned back in his seat, appraising Gatsby's smile. "Are, are you asking me to, to dance?" 

"I just asked if you knew the Charleston."

"But are you asking me to dance?"

"Why, Old Sport, I believe I am." Jay stood, offering him his hand. Nick didn't hesitate to take it, shaking his head in silent laughter. "As long as my feet don't get stepped on." 

Nick was quite light on his feet, fancy footwork in time with the bass. Gatsby had trouble keeping up. Not that he was a bad dancer; he was actually very talented. But something about Nick swinging around in his arms, pushed closer by the crowded floor, made him lose any and all coordination. "Jay, you've got to move your feet more!" Nick laughed.

"I know."

But he could barely manage to sway, Nick's hand in his, the other placed gently yet firmly on his arm. Nick had to lean forward to speak in Gatsby's ear to be heard over the blaring trumpet solo. "You invited me to dance, I expect you to dance," he teased. Gatsby spun Nick around then, getting into the swing off it. "Hold on tight!"

And he did, Nick's hand tightened on Gatsby's arm, a carefree laugh sprouting from his chest. He leaned in closer as Gatsby spun him in a most nonsensical fashion. They rocked back and forth laughing, still spinning. "I'm a little dizzy now, and I don't think it's from the champagne," Nick breathed happily out, tapping Jay's shoulder to get him to stop. "Me too," Gatsby whispered inaudibly, but he was dizzy in a whole different sense. Dizzy from Nick's intoxicating laugh, dizzy from the way his forehead was almost laid against his shoulder, from that unyielding smile, unrestricted in the low light of the speakeasy. Gatsby slowly realized that they were just standing now, holding each other in a way only the most scandalous couples would hold each other in public. People were beginning to stare as the dance came to an end, staring at two men, one of them the famed Jay Gatsby. He didn't care. Scandal was fine with him as long as it meant he could stay here and hold Nick on the edge of the dance floor. 

"The song's over," Nick hummed, letting go of Gatsby's arm and tried to step away but Gatsby held on for a few seconds longer. "Shame. You're a fantastic dancer." He reluctantly let go. Nick flushed again, that beautiful pink Gatsby unabashedly adored that spread from his ears down to his neck. "Well, there's another song starting. Maybe I can out dance you again?" Gatsby let out a bark of laughter. "Ha! Challenge accepted!" and he gladly took Nick back into his embrace. They stayed glued to the dance floor and to each other up until Nick began to drag his feet. 

"Tired, Old Sport?" 

"No," he murmured, almost hanging off of Gatsby. Gatsby chuckled and shook his shoulder. "Come on now. It's time to go."

"Mm."

"We can grab a few canapés on our way out."

"Mm!" Nick didn't lean off of Gatsby as they walked off the floor, relying on him to be his eyes and legs. Gatsby wouldn't have it any other way. 

***

The concoction of purple, navy, and black was beginning to lighten when Gatsby pulled up to Nick's quaint little shack. Nick had surprisingly been able to fall asleep on the drive home, suit rumpled and hair majestically out of place. "Do you need help inside Old Sport?" Nick sat up, looking a little disoriented. "Oh. No, no I should be fine," he smiled sleepily up at Gatsby and once more that night, his heart stuttered and he was trapped in that unassuming gaze. "Thank you, Jay. Tonight was terrific," he patted his shoulder, hand lingering for a moment before sliding off. He trudged up to his house and disappeared unceremoniously through the door.  _How unfitting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Finals weeks and AP tests are upon me but never fear I fully intend to finish this fic! Hope you guys enjoy this installment.


	5. A Different Kind of Day

"Say, Old Sport, take a gander at this." Nick was spread out on Gatsby's chaise, fanning himself with his boater, coat tossed off elsewhere. Gatsby couldn't blame him. Today was unbearably hot. The last week had been mild enough to go out and about during the day, but now Gatsby didn't feel like doing anything except lie about. Luckily, Nick felt the same and had been at Gatsby's since early that morning. Now, in the privacy of Gatsby's upper parlor, he was limp in his limbs, shirt untucked, tie loose about his shoulders, and sleepy with heat. He hummed in acknowledgement when Gatsby stood from his own perch on the loveseat just across the way. He made a move to sit up so there would be room for Gatsby. "No, stay how you are," Gatsby murmured, lifting Nick's legs to lay them across his own lap. Nick's brow furrowed, and he shifted his legs a little, but he was much to hot to bother with the rather intimate position at the moment, so he let it be. "What was it that you wanted to show me?" he mumbled out. Gatsby handed him the paper and pointed at a side column. A silly little human interest story, it highlighted a new fad taking all the major cities in America: flagpole sitting. Just as inane as it sounds, people were crazed with climbing flagpoles just to sit on them. Why? Simply because they could. One man was reported to sit for over thirteen hours atop one such pole. "Phonus Balonus," Nick whistled, handing the paper back to Gatsby. "Absolutely redonkulous," Gatsby agreed. 

Nick stretched his hands high over his head, yawning out, "Lordy, it's hot!" He tugged at his shirt, flapping a breeze into his chest. "It's no hotter than your own home," Gatsby pointed out, patting Nick's knee absentmindedly. He began to fan himself with the paper, giving into the stagnant air. 

"I didn't come over here just to beat my gums all day! I came over because you have a pool," Nick pointed out. 

Gatsby nodded, smile growing. It was his idea smile, Nick noted. Early on he had made a mental note to be wary of the Idea smile. It always meant Nick should expect the unexpected: troublesome or other wise. Recently, this smile had preceded only good things: outings with just him and Jay. Still, one could never be sure. 

"Well, why didn't you just say so?" Jay carefully, pushed Nick's legs off his lap and hopped up off the chaise. He brusquely disappeared out of the room, leaving Nick to wonder. Only a few seconds later did his head pop back through the doorway. "Pool?" Nick laughed at the simple phrase before gesturing to his self. His shirt was very nearly plastered to his skin, his pants as well, from the sweat. He suddenly regretted drawing Gatsby's attention to his state on undress and the sweat. "I don't have a suit with me!"

"You don't need one."

***

Nick halted when Jay stripped down to nothing but his union suit. He was even more frozen when he realized Jay expected him to do the same. "What? You want to swim in your trousers and spats?" Nick shook his head furiously, eyeing the cool blue water of the pool. To be sure a swim would be a relief. But in his undergarments? With Gatsby?! He'd never imagine-well, he may or may not have imagine _something_ like it, but he never imagined it could actually happen. He felt a drop of sweat roll down his spine as he debated. "Well," Gatsby interrupted his internal debate of release from heat versus indecency, "It's your decision. Feel free to go back inside if you want." Gatsby plunged happily into the pool. He surfaced, hair gleaming, eyes closed in relief at the cool sensation after the heat. Nick made his decision. He stripped down to his own union suit, and quickly got into the pool, not wanting to be exposed above the water for too long. Gatsby swam over and sent a mighty splash his way, dowsing him completely. Nick sputtered and wiped the water out his eyes. He squinted at Gatsby as he laughed fully, clearly clutching his sides underwater. "Dry up!" Nick huffed, splashing Jay back. He just laughed again, rejoicing in the cool water Nick sent his way. They floated awhile, drifting over to a shaded portion of the pool.

"Say, Jay?"

"What's the report, Old Sport?"

Nick splashed him again. "I can't believe the things you say sometimes," he groaned, failing in hiding a smile. Gatsby shrugged, his Doofy smile baring his teeth. Nick had to look away. The Doofy smile always succeeded in drawing a snort like laughter from him. Nick had no intention of snorting in front of Gatsby today.

Jay ducked back under the water again and lazily swam back and forth between the line of shadow and sun kissed. Nick watched him drift elegantly through the water, mesmerized. It felt as if he was always watching Gatsby. Who could blame him? No one could deny that he was an attractive man. Hair of gold, eyes of green, he was made of money. To add to the fact, Gatsby was one of those people who grew in appeal the more time spent in his company. He was the flame and Nick was just one of the many moths in New York, he often thought. Still, with all his time gazing after his neighbor, he had failed to crack the enigma that was Mr. Jay Gatsby. He was the most hopeful, charming man Nick had ever met. And being surrounded by bondsmen and Old Money Eggs as he was, Gatsby was a breath of fresh air in the smog and scum in the city. Nick had never been in love. Sure, he had fancied a few skirts before (some of his classmates at Yale too), but he'd never met someone who could ensnare him so fully as Gatsby had. He wanted to live and breathe the same air Jay did. Wanted to board up that awful, hypnotic green light so Jay would only have eyes for him; replace memories of Daisy with memories of himself. Silly, Insanity. Improper. To feel this way, especially about a man, was absolutely out of the question. And really, he had tried his hardest to let the feelings blow over. How many times had he stopped himself from wandering into that danger zone whenever Gatsby came calling with some hotsy-totsy new suit, eyes easily drawn to his arms, to his legs, chest-he always stopped himself from looking or thinking past that. Too dangerous to let his eyes wander further, or to linger. He never let himself think that way about Jay either. It was too easy to drown in thoughts of Jay. But then Coney happened. Then dancing all night happened. The harder he tried to get away from Gatsby, the harder Gatsby held on.

"What's got you in a tizzy, Old Sport? You're all scrunched in the corner. Come swim a bit!" Nick smiled and dipped under the water, letting the coolness wipe his mind of embarrassing thoughts. "Just thinking," he admitted as he swam to meet Gatsby in the middle.

"A dangerous pastime."

"One you don't partake in, I can see." Gatsby frowned, flicking some water in Nick's smirking face. "Watch yourself." Another splashing match ensued. Both thoroughly soaked to the bone, cooled off a degree, and considerably more pruney, they finally got out. It seemed that Nick forgot one tiny detail before jumping into the pool only dressed in his underclothes. These were his only underclothes. He very well couldn't walk out in public, even just next door, to grab a new pair. But he couldn't put his clothes over his dripping body either. Nick also hadn't considered how thin the fabric of his underclothes actually were. Jay seemed to realize the problem at just the same time. "We better get you out of that," he gestured to Nick's underclothes. "We can use my room for changing." 

"But there's nothing for me to change into."

"We'll figure it out." 

***

Gatsby couldn't help but admire how ridiculous Nick looked in his robe. It was strange to see him dressed up in something more lavish than his usual attire. And yet, all the same, looking like the King of Sheba suited Nick, dark hair damp against his neck. A drop of water slid down from the corner of his jaw to the dip in his collar bone. Jay stared openly, Nick too busy playing with the hem to notice his friend had come back. Nick shivered and closed the robe tighter around himself. "Cold?" Nick's head whipped up and gave Gatsby an appeasing sort of smile. "No, just damp." Jay tossed him a new towel, one of his bests.  _Nick deserves the best._ "Your underclothes should be dry right about now," Jay remarked, focusing his thoughts on memories of a fully dressed Nick and not the one in his bedroom, clad only in a loose silk robe. He was definitely not focusing on what was just underneath the fabric. "I'll go fetch them." The clothes were still a little damp, but Gatsby knew that Nick would refuse to borrow a spare of Gatsby's union suits, so he brought in Nick's damp ones. He laughed to see Nick seated at the foot of his bed, hair stuck up every which way from furious towel rubbing. "Darb do, Old Sport!" Nick flushed and tried to beat his hair into behaving. Gatsby sauntered over and bat Nick's hands away. 

"Be gentle to your hair. It's a lovely feature," he began to smooth it out for Nick. The latter didn't say a thing. He sat rather rigidly and Gatsby couldn't tell whether or not he was breathing. To be fair, Gatsby wasn't breathing much either. It didn't take more than a few seconds to straighten out Nick's hair. His hands seemed to think otherwise. He continued to floof and play with the dark waves, the hair running through his fingers akin to sticking one's hand into a barrel of uncooked rice: intoxicating. He was surprised, all be it delighted, to realize Nick's head was moving along to Gatsby's touch, following the flow of the fingers gently pulling and twirling his hair. His eyes closed blissfully, a content (erotic) hum escaped from the base of his throat. That hum broke the two out of whatever trance they had been trapped in. Gatsby clear his throat, his hands flying out of Nick's even messier hair. "I'll just..." he helplessly gestured to Nick's clothes laid out on the bed, "..leave you to it then." He didn't hear or see if Nick even tried to reply seeing as he rushed out onto the balcony. 

Nick joined him a little later, a blast of cool air following him out the door. Already, the afternoon had made Gatsby hot again. The afternoon, not his blush as his hands tingled from the not at all surprising silkiness of Nick's hair. He glanced at Nick who was staring firmly at his hands on the railing. So, they weren't going to talk about it. Why would they? Gatsby could live with that. Except he couldn't. He had fondled his neighbor's hair. He had run his hands unbridled through Daisy's cousin's hair. Hands, almost lovingly toying with his dear Nick's hair. (Not to mention that moan). He should be mortified that he let his actions be controlled by his emotions. Anyone else would be. And yet, Gatsby wasn't. In fact, he would give anything to just reach up and twirl that wave by Nick's left ear that he had come to love so much the other night. Gatsby put his hand's in his pocket; he couldn't trust himself. He watched jealously as Nick ran his own hand through his hair down to his neck. Gatsby's eyes lingered on where the water drop had been. 

"I think I'm going to ankle about for a bit in the shade-"

"Can we go driving? I mean, I've driven before but it's been so long and I was wondering with your help-"

"You know I'm always up for a ride."

Something crossed Nick's face, an expression Gatsby had never seen before. He would've called it bitter amusement, but it was gone just as quick as it had come. He looked up from his hands finally, directly into Gatsby's face. There was a moment where it looked like he wanted to say something. Jay hoped it wasn't about the hair touching. Or maybe he did. But after a few seconds, he dropped his eyes. "Alright. Driving." He nodded firmly, solidifying the plan in his own head.

***

 Nick was rusty to begin with, but after a few particularly terrifying turns, he was cruising along just fine. He was gripping the wheel so tight, his knuckles were white. "Ease up a bit there, Old Sport!" Gatsby scooted closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You're a fine driver." Nick smiled, that appeasing one again, and stayed tense. Another precarious turn was made. "Nicky, are you alright?" Gatsby drew even closer, arm going around Nick. The driver tensed even more and he whipped the car to the side of the road. Nick slammed on the brakes, both of them jolting forward. They were alone in the road. Alone with Nick’s shaking breath. He turned to Gatsby with a wild look in his eyes. "...yes," he sighed, and slumped away from the steering wheel. "Just, driving again. It's a bit...intense." Gatsby brushed some hair back from Nick's face. Their eyes locked once again, Jay's hand still in his hair...yet again. Something snapped in Nick, all the rigidity of the afternoon since the pool shattering to make way for laughter. The kind of laughter where if you didn’t laugh, you might cry. Gatsby followed after a few moments, it bubbling up in his stomach, dissolving the stress. Both laughed and laughed until their sides hurt and their eyes were watering. "Some day," Nick breathed out the last of his hysteria. He restarted the car, driving much more calmly this time, back to their houses. "Yes," Gatsby sighed, watching Nick wipe away a tear, "Some day." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During the twenties there was this crazy fad to climb and sit on top of flagpoles??? Why??? Well, anyways, AP testing is done for me which means more writing time! I think we'll only have a few more chapters left after this one. If any of you have any requests of things for them to do together, leave them below in the comments and I might work them in!


	6. A Different Kind of Party

How long had it been since he had stood here? At the edge of the dock, the playful summer breeze laughed across the bay in ripples. The green light was dimmer than he remembered it, practically invisible to him now. Despite the clarity of the evening, he had to squint to see it. Even then, something told him that he wasn’t really seeing it’s flicker, that he was just remembering it from nights past. Those nights where it would pulse hypnotically, teasing him like the wink of an eye, anchoring him to a world of money and pretenses. But here, on this night of lullaby breezes, he found that the chain to his anchor had snapped. Yet he hadn’t floated away into the twanging diamond sky. In truth, he must have been free from the green light for about a month now. Something, or someone rather, was anchoring him now. Ever since that last foggy night. The green light had been lost then too. 

He shifted his weight, the creak of wood falling on deaf ears. He twisted his ring round his finger as he thought, so much so that the inside gleamed as if newly polished. Daisy used to be the object of his thoughts when he stood out here on late summer nights. Daisy, Daisy, Daisy. She meant simpler times, a time before the war. Everything he had built, it had been for her. But she didn’t want it, and at this point, Jay didn’t care. He huffed to himself. What a woman was Daisy Buchanan to leave him crawling after her in the dirt after all these years. And what a man Nick Carraway was, that he was the only one that had been able, or willing to, pick Gatsby up. There were no soft thoughts of Louisville tonight; no longing for pre-war life. Only exciting new memories of lazy summer days spent by Nick’s side, a new pounding in his heart as the stars sang: a sensation lost to him these last few years. He thought he had loved Daisy and perhaps he had. But then there was Nick, so close, so willing to simply be with Gatsby. He had never rejected him. Gatsby prayed it would remain that way. For the faster Daisy slipped away from his thoughts, the more Gatsby longed for Nick to stay with him. Gatsby turned away from the green light, not ever really having looked at it, and his eyes slid over the small wooded area of Nick’s hovel. All lights were off. As expected. Nick should be asleep this time of night. If he hadn’t been, Gatsby might have marched right over to see just why Nick wasn’t getting his sleep. Still, Gatsby longed for a light to flicker on, a shadow to pass by a window to confirm his darling Nick was there. 

Gatsby shifted once again, taken aback by his own thoughts.  _His Darling Nick._ He smiled at the words and whispered them aloud.  _His Darling Nick._ He cherished the way the words rolled off his tongue, the click at the end. The words floated away, carried away by that laughing breeze. What he would give to say those words to his friend. He was  _his._ He was  _darling._ Worth more than all that Gatsby had built. It had all been for Daisy in any case. He would give it all up now, his empire, his fortune, everything, if in exchange Nick would call him  _Darling Jay,_ watch after him as Gatsby had watched after the green light. Jay closed his eyes, imagining Nick’s face and how it might look to have such blatant affection painted on it. He didn’t have to imagine hard. The look was on Nick’s face whenever he looked at Jay. 

Strange how love works. In just one summer, it can let you go only to ensnare you even tighter than from before. Gatsby laughed silently to himself when he had discovered who his new neighbor had been. A simple Chicago man, another kid with big dreams of the big city. He couldn’t believe his luck, that the woman he had been pursuing’s cousin just happened to pick that fateful house next to his own place. Finally, he had a way in, a foot in the door of the Buchanan household. He couldn’t have predicted that Nick would actually replace Daisy in his heart. It was much more subtle; a mug of cocoa warming your fingers on a cold day versus the shattered earth Daisy had given him. He much preferred falling in love with Nick. Warm and safe, it was still a maddening thrill of never being the same again. And, might be add, more dangerous. Should anyone find out that eligible bachelor Jay Gatsby was in love with a  _man_? Well, New York just wouldn’t be the same. It would have a hell of a job recovering, that was for sure. 

Gatsby strut back down the dock, eyes periodically lingering on Nick’s place, somewhere out there in the dark. Tonight, West Egg was the top of the world of which he was god. Because the mist of five years had cleared and he was in love. Jay Gatsby was in love with Nick Carraway and he’d be damned if he didn’t want the whole world to know it. 

***

The Gatsby palace was in chaos the next morning. Hired help poured in to help the already existing servants. It was Friday which meant that all of New York would be traipsing in that evening for another wild weekend. For some unfathomable reason, Mr. Gatsby was hellbent on this party being the crux of the summer; the party to beat until the end of time. Everything and everyone was to be there. In just that one day, news of Gatsby’s grand party spread like the plague throughout the island. To not be at this party was to not have been in New York at all this season. The usual were expected to attend, but in tenfold: starlets, producers, politicians, bussinessmen, gangsters, heirs and heiresses, rowdy school boys. All of the world was coming. There wouldn’t be enough room for all the attendants. Once again, Jay sent out only one invitation: Nick Carraway. Not that he needed to. Nick was certain to attend but he would leave nothing up to chance. He had never done so before and he wasn’t starting now. So that afternoon, Jay visited himself, to double check that Nick would be coming. Honestly, the way he was behaving. Love struck 12 year old school boys would have been embarrassed. 

“Come in!” Nick shouted when Gatsby gently rapped on the door. Jay obliged, but didn’t find him in the foyer, or living room. “Old Sport?”

”Here!” That was very helpful. The call sounded from up the stairs, so Gatsby began to climb. Now that he thought about it, he had never been on the upper floor of Nick’s house. Not that there had ever been a reason nor opportunity to do so. “Nick?” Gatsby popped into the first open room. The bedroom. Considerably quaint when compared with Gatsby’s own. The closet was wide open, only a few suits and sweaters hung up. Giving into his curiosity, Jay wandered further in, past the bed and up to Nick’s clothes. There was a day suit, a black one that Jay had seen at parties before, a few others mixed in with some sweaters (why would anyone ever had any need to wear sweaters in the summer?) but what really grabbed his attention was at the back of the rack. It was a sleek celestial blue and looked very neatly tailored. Jay gently reached out and ran a hand over the breast of the suit. The fabric was cool underneath his hand, but it lacked a certain sturdiness without a body in it. He couldn’t remember Nick ever wearing it which was a real shame because he would look absolutely  _fucking_ amazing in this. The image of Nick waltzing up his steps tonight wearing this flashed through his mind, more beautiful and charming than anyone else there. A cough startled him from his reverie and he released the suit. 

“There you are, Old Sport!” He smiled coolly as if he hadn’t just been groping Nick’s suit. Nick himself was equally trying to play nonchalant, leaning casually against the doorway. He nodded towards the suit that was still swinging on it’s hanger. “You like that one?”

Gatsby looked over at it in mock surprise, pretending, to no avail, that he had just noticed it. “Oh. Yes. Very nice.” He smoothed out his hair, to distract himself from staring at Nick’s blush of pride. 

“Was there something you needed, Jay?” Nick straightened, joining Jay in his room. 

“Just checking if you were coming by tonight?” Nick scoffed, not one of annoyance. That much was obvious from the beautiful upturn at the corners of his lips. It was all Jay could do to keep his distance. “No, I was planning on ignoring your invitation. I’m actually going to sit up here in my room all night, reading books about the Market.” Gatsby frowned until Nick smiled playfully at him. A sigh escaped from him and he adjusted his hair: he was far too wound up to joke. A fact that didn’t slip past Nick. “You alright?” 

“Yes, I’m just fine, Old Sport. Just fine.” Looking at him now, Jay just wanted to tell him. Tell him how much Nick truly meant to him. How ardently and deeply he adored him. How badly he wanted to call Nick his and have Nick call him the same. But the middle of the afternoon in Nick’s humble bedroom was not the right time or place. When Jay did tell him, he wanted it to be grand. Fireworks in the background, music in the air and just the two of them against the night sky when Jay took Nick’s hands and finally said what was burning a hole through his tongue. It would be spectacular and all due respect to Nick, his bedroom was not the type of spectacular Jay had in mind. 

“I’ll see you tonight?” Jay confirmed once again. 

“You’ll see me tonight,” Nick shook his head in an exasperated laugh, patting Jay’s back on his way out. The imprint of Nick’s hand stayed with him through the rest of the day. 

The party was certainly all that it was projected to be. Once inside those front gates, you were lost until dawn. In the weightless atmosphere, one floated around in booze, glitter, blaring trumpets and extraordinary people. Anything that could happen, would happen. There was no rhythm. No rhyme. Only absolute madness, of the best sort. The party was a whirlpool of iniquity, drowning even the most chaste in its current. For the first time, Gatsby thought he might be sucked in as well. He was usually so skilled at staying afloat above it all. But he wasn’t bobbing for long. Among the drabbles of people and cars, walking up in that eye catching suit, lights glimmering attractively off the lapel, was Nick Carraway. Gatsby had been right. He was the most dashing one. More than dashing. He was absolutely beautiful. Not to sound too dramatic (and Jay was nothing if not dramatic) but he really thought that he had died and Nick was come to take him to heaven. 

“You approve?” Nick held his arms out when he reached Gatsby, stretching to show off the suit in a purposefully ridiculous manner. “Absolutely,” Gatsby beamed, taking hold of one hand and spinning him around. Nick blushed and quickly slipped his hand out of Jay’s before they got funny looks. 

“I think the entire city is here!” Nick cleared his throat. 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” It was true, no matter how sarcastic it sounded. Gatsby could care less about the entire city because he had the entire world standing just in front of him. “Come with me, Old Sport, let me show you around.” He slipped an arm around Nick’s waist and led him inside. Jay made sure to keep the arm around him tight, in case a crowd pushed them apart. Once you lost track of someone here, there was no getting them back. The flow of the crowd led them outside where there was undoubtedly more people but a little more air to breathe. A server passed by, offering them both a drink. An overwhelmed Nick gladly accepted. 

“You really went all out,” Nick had to shout as they looked over the crowd, towers of champagne and food, a full dance floor and band, and so many lights that it might as well be day. “Why not!” Jay shrugged, eyes stuck on Nick’s face. He knew that Nick didn’t need all of this to impress. He wasn’t like Daisy but Gatsby knew no other way to woo. Nick looked away from the scene and up to Gatsby with laughter in his eyes, glass a little bit emptier. It must’ve been quite a shock to find Gatsby staring at him so intensely, and so close. The din quieted just a bit in Gatsby’s ears with Nick staring expectantly at him. “I have something to tell you,” he said, not able to hold back a moment longer. 

“Nicky!” Both men turned at the delighted cry, and came face to face with Daisy Buchanan. “Daisy!” Nick embraced her quickly while Jay quickly pulled himself back together.

“Where’s Tom?”

”Oh he’s somewhere lost over there,” Daisy pointed gaily where Tom was struggling through a particular rough part of the crowd. “How have you been Nicky? I hardly see you anymore!” Nick shrugged. 

“I’ve been fine. Just busy with bonds.” A lie, Gatsby noted. Nick was no busier than anyone else. All of his spare time had just been spent with Gatsby the past month. He smiled to himself. 

“Jay,” Daisy turned to Gatsby with a coy smile, “wonderful party.” Gatsby smiled in return, taking her hand. “What other kind of party would I dare host?” He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her hand, out of habit, out of courtesy. A goodbye of sorts. “Mrs. Buchanan have you met Arthur Hopkins? Renowned Broadway director.” Jay passed Daisy along as Tom finally broke free of the crowd and was striding over. Daisy gave a cordial greeting to Mr. Hopkins and Jay turned back to Nick. Or rather, the spot where Nick had been standing. Swiveling his head in an owl like fashion, he scanned the crowd for that blue suit and found that it’s backside was retreating into the house. Jay pushed after him. 

“Old Sport!” Nick didn’t hear, or if he did, he didn’t respond. There was a new drink in his hand. He pushed on through the crowd, just in front of Gatsby, just far enough away for Jay not to reach him. He headed up the stairs and out of Jay’s sight. A moment later, Jay was free and chasing after him. “Old Sport!” Into the study. Jay followed gingerly. Nick and him were the only ones there, Nick staring out the window, back to Gatsby. “Old Sport, whats the matter?” Nick turned slowly, staring at his feet, fingers pressed to his lips, taking time to ponder his response. 

“What are you doing?” He muttered to the floor. Jay stepped forward at the shake in his voice. 

“What?”

Nick’s head whipped up, eyes flaming in the darkness of the unlit study. “What are you doing to me Jay?” He said stronger, angrier. Well, Jay certainly wasn’t expecting this. Pain ebbed from Nick’s features, contorting his face in heart-breaking way that Jay couldn’t have ever imagined. It tore at his heart. Still, he couldn’t help but note that even in fury, Nick was beautiful. Especially with his cheeks adorned in a outraged blush, or how tempting his lips were as they trembled. Nick was not one for passionate emotions, usually so reserved where everyone else was quick to fly off the handle. Yet alcohol had done its job and had stripped away the barrier keeping him in check. “Well? What the  _hell_ are you doing?” 

“I-” 

“What did I do to deserve this treatment? I’m a good man! Not the best, but I do my work, I try not to judge. I don’t deserve this!” He gestured wildly at nothing in particular. 

“Nick, what are you-”

”Look, I know that I’m just a means to an end, a way to be closer to Daisy. A lucky connection. But you couldn’t leave it at that, could you! Had to be nice to me..” Gatsby stood in silence, wondering what on Earth had brought this on. Nick’s hair was falling out of place the more ferevently he spoke. He also seemed to be gaining courage with every impassioned word. Nick was drunk on feelings, drunk on his own words. Alcohol only had a small part to play. This was a man on edge, on the brink of emotional collapse: a kiss on the hand the breaking point. He had kept whatever was on his mind locked up for too long. It was bound to explode sometime. That sometime just happened to be tonight. 

“I never had a problem with you using me. Just the fact that you won’t admit to it!”

”Now just hang on,” Gatsby interrupted. He had to make Nick see, had to make him understand. But Nick was unphased by Gatsby’s interruption. 

“You kept it up. All of this nonsense to impress me so you could impress Daisy or who the hell even knows at this point! But people are not pawns to be played in a game of adulterous chess!” 

“Now wait just a minute there, Old Sport! Did you ever stop to think for a minute that none of it was meant to impress!” Nick made a face. Eye brows arched in a “Are you serious” type of way. Gatsby had to concede to that. It actually was to impress, but that wasn’t the point he was trying to make. “Not the house, but Coney? Dancing? Tea? That was all for the sake of just being with you! You’re more than just a ‘lucky connection’!” 

Nick shook his head. “But Daisy. Why would you even bother with me when she’s the one you want? Only a fool would miss the way you look at her.” 

Gatsby laughed, the sound acidic in his throat. “Only a fool would miss the way I look at you!” Nick blinked. His mouth had opened for another retort but nothing came out. 

“No but-I-what?” His cheeks were a soft pink from the liquor and the rush of emotions. He shook his head, rearranging his thoughts. This didn’t make sense. Jay look at him? Finally his brain seemed to click, a light physically going off behind his eyes. “What?” He whispered again, soft as a child caught sneaking out of bed. Jay closed the short distance between them, taking Nick’s hands softly to bring him forward. 

You could barely call it a kiss. Only a moment of the lightest pressure their lips just ghosted past each other. The whisper of Nick’s lips burned Gatsby’s, lighting his entire being on fire. After all, he wanted there to be fireworks. This type of fire was better. Still close enough to share each other’s breath, Gatsby searched Nick’s face, praying that he wasn’t furious with him for answering his question in this manner. Nick’s eyes were downcast, eyelashes sweeping his cheeks. They fluttered up, dazzling in the dim light. He wasn’t furious. Not at all. Far from it actually. There was no hesitancy in his eyes. Just the shock of barely satisfied want. It washed over Jay that Nick had been yearning after him just as intensely, perhaps even more so. Standing at the precipice, all that they wanted directly before them, they jumped. 

Silently and with the passion of an entire summer of waiting, they crashed into each other. Gatsby kissed him urgently, afraid to sepperate in case it was all in his head. If that was the case, he never wanted to open his eyes again if only to keep Nick here in his arms, lips hot and sweet against his. He gave way to his other senses. The fabric of Nick’s suit and the strain of his muscles as he held tightly to Gatsby moved under his fingertips. The warm salt of Nick’s heavenly lips moving eagerly against his. The tongue slipping into his mouth bringing with it the hint of whiskey. The fingers sliding messily into his hair. The softest moan from Nick tantalizing his ears. Time broke off, leaving the study in it’s own pocket universe as they melted into one person. Driven forward by his all consuming need for more of Nick, he pushed against him; lips, body, everything. Pushed until they were tumbling into a bookshelf, Nick trapped between two different types of wood. 

They broke apart for one moment, one agonizing moment, to catch their breath. Foreheads pressed together, their sighs mingling in the space between them in electric air. “Is it a dream, Jay?” Gatsby opened his eyes to see Nick gazing dazedly at him. “No Old Sport,” he moved his hands from Nick’s back to cup his face and leant in again, “I don’t think it is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they finally get it together! Sorry it took so long for this update! I had to restart it because I lost the entire first part so I had to rewrite it! Plus, it’s always disheartening when you lose some of your writing.  
> There were so many ways I wanted to go with this chapter that I might pick up with in the next installment.  
> I wanted to give everyone the opportunity to decide what they want to read or don’t want to read so next chapter is going to have all the George Michael’s Careless Whisper action that normally would have ended this chapter. I won’t put any major plot points in that chapter so if you want to remain a clean bean, you don’t have to sweat it! But these kids are hittin’ the mattresses next chapter.


	7. A Different Kind of Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bowchica WOWOW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you try several times to phrase a question in the most decent way possible for google while researching but you’re not getting the results you want so you have to type out “what did they use as lube in the 1920’s” with your own two hands while you die a little on the inside.

When he had woken up that morning, Gatsby could have never imagined he’d be here only a few hours later, with Nick’s tongue hot in his mouth. Of course, he had imagined kissing Nick before: it would be sweet and loving. The softest of pecks. He now realized what a fool he had been to consider that his and Nick’s first kiss could be anything but this. Hot and heavy, colliding against each other in the best ways. Gatsby felt constricted now in his tux and by the way Nick was pressing into his hip, he could tell Nick felt that way too. All he wanted to do was stay here, pushing Nick up against the bookcase and make stars burst underneath his eyelids. But at the second Nick pushed gently at his shoulders, Gatsby let himself finally disconnect with Nick.

And what a sight Nick was. He shook as he struggled to control his breathing, hair falling in front of his forehead, arms grasping Gatsby’s arms for balance, head thrown back. Gatsby tenderly pushed the hair back into place. “What is it, Old Sport?” Nick’s heavily lidded eyes pulled him closer.

“Is there somewhere more private? People tend to wander at your parties,” Nick hummed, sliding his hand behind Gatsby’s neck so that they were now nose to nose. It was torture to be this close and not catch those swollen lips in a needy kiss. He settled instead for skimming his jawline, “Do you think you can make it to another room? Because I don’t know if I can.” Nick’s laugh vibrated against Gatsby’s lips. “I’m sure you can,” he whispered playfully and pushed Gatsby off from where he was now beginning to suck on that spot where his jaw flowed into his neck. “Because when we get somewhere private, there’ll be a lot more of this.” Gatsby gave in.

“Follow me.”

He caught Nick’s hand in his own, relishing in the way their hands knit together perfectly, and led him out of the study and into the much brighter hallway. They dashed, Jay practically dragging Nick with him. Most everyone else was outside or on a lower floor in the house, so they had no trouble wandering through the halls in the state they were in. Gatsby would have had no problem taking Nick right then and there against the study wall, but, he supposed as the door to his bedroom swung open, it didn’t matter where; it was always going to be incredible no matter the circumstance.

They were on each other again as soon as the door had latched shut as if they had never stopped in the first place. Gatsby resumed his worship of Nick’s neck, pulling out a deep moan from Nick. Beautiful. Nick’s hands were at his jacket, pulling it clumsily off his person. More of a feeble tugging since Gatsby’s arms were so tightly wrapped around Nick’s waist. He relinquished his grip just enough to ease the way. What a swell idea, Gatsby crooned in his mind, beginning to unbutton that sweet little number that had been driving him crazy all night. Hadn’t he thought their clothes had been too constricting back in the study? Best to throw them off.

They stripped each other between kisses, pieces of their ensembles littering the floor. Nick was beginning to slide off Gatsby’s suspenders down his shoulders when he was scooped up roughly by Jay and carried over to the bed. He tried to hide the squeak he let out but to no avail. Gatsby had heard. “Do that again,” he groaned into Nick’s collar bone, nipping down lightly. Nick’s head rolled back into one of Jay’s many downy pillows, another involuntary yelp rising from his throat. With a content growl, Jay continued to relieve Nick of his clothes.

Before it had just been encombersome accessories. Now came the real sentiment. Jay nearly stopped at Nick’s shirt. He let one stray hand slide down that smooth porcelain chest peppered with red, coming to rest over his stomach. “God, Nick,” he breathed out. “Just...god.” Nick flushed red across his chest and made a move as if to cover himself but Jay caught his wrists and held them back over his head.

“You’re all burned up, Sheba,” Gatsby whistled, “What’s the matter?”

Nick went even redder at being called a “Sheba” and turned his head to one side, muttering, “You’ve got your peepers all over me.” Gatsby laughed and planted a smooch on the top of of Nick’s nose.

“Can you blame me? You’re gorgeous,” he whispered in all seriousness. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Nick sat up to kiss him once more, all sloppy just like he had done all night, as Jay worked his trousers further down his hips. Jay wanted to push back and take view of Nick in his fully unclothed glory but Nick’s lips were firm against his and wouldn’t be letting Jay go anywhere for awhile. Fine with him. Instead he let Nick push him back onto his heels and slide into his lap. He steadied Nick’s hips with his hands, humming at the way Nick’s fingers traveled over his torso to relieve him of his own shirt.

“Nick!” He moaned out again at the touch of their bare chests against one another, flooding him with the physical contact he craved. Nick was still trying to maintain a grasp of reality on the situation, trying to keep a level head. Adorable. That wouldn’t last for too much longer. Neither of their senses were any match for the other. Jay crushed Nick against him, molding every muscle together. His hands slid down Nick’s back, pleased with the way he melted into the touch and with the smallest intake of breath as his hands roamed over Nick’s ass. 

Jay pushed Nick back onto the bed, sad to have him off his lap but not so much so with Nick’s legs still wrapped around his waist. Their kiss was languid and open mouthed, both of them putting off for just a second longer what lie before them. Nick was the one to break it again.

“Um,” he breathed, biting his bottom lip uncertainly. _God._  “Do you, you have any, ah,” Nick struggled through words that were barely registering in Gatsby’s brain. His eyes were too busy drinking in Nick, exposed, bothered and vulnerable. He let his eyes dip below the hips and _Holy Hera_ it was all he could do not to come down on Nick right then and there, to relieve some pressure by rubbing their hard-ons together. But hadn’t Nick been saying something?

“What was that?” Jay snapped back to reality with difficulty.

“Do you have anything to make it easier,” Nick found the words this time. Oh. He hadn’t thought of that. “Anything slick,” Nick provided into the silence. “Well, there might be-” Jay cut his sentence short and hopped off the bed, giving Nick’s forehead a quick cash. “Stay right there.”

”As if I’d be going anywhere else!”

Jay returned a few seconds later from the washroom with a tin of Vaseline. Nick huffed out a laugh. “That’ll work!”

“Good, because I can’t wait a moment longer.”

He repositioned himself above Nick and between slender, trembling legs. His hands slid up his thighs, hooking them about his hips. Jay’s hands continued to run all over Nick’s body; he wanted to be able to say he knew every inch of this man intimately, every dip in his skin, every scar. He sucked on one such scar, no doubt from the war, on his ribs. Nick groaned, rutting impatiently against Jay’s abdomen. He had been teased long enough. Yes, it was sweet to the point where Nick wanted to cry that Jay was taking his time pampering Nick, but his cock was throbbing from the build up. “Jay,” he groaned in warning, “I thought you couldn’t wait a moment longer.” He gasped when Jay nipped his side in response. Jay popped the lid off the Vaseline tin, excessively spreading the gel over his fingers.

It would be nothing compared to his cock but that finger still felt so good as it pushed into Nick. He rocked back against Jay’s finger, relishing in the electricity it sent throughout his limbs. “Old Sport, you have got to stop making sounds like that or we won’t get very far.” Nick hadn’t even realized he had been mewling. He tried not to be embarrassed. He must sound like an animal in heat. Then the second finger pushed in. The sting was foreign, but welcome as Jay started to really stretch him out, curling his fingers inside him. It was when the third finger pushed in that Nick’s hands flew to grasp Jay’s arm. “Does that not feel good, Old Sport?” He crooned into Nick’s screwed up face. Nick lifted himself off his back just a few inches, hanging from Jay’s shoulders. “Call me Nick,” he pleaded huskily in Jay’s ear. Jay moaned at the tone and pulled his fingers out.

“Alright Nick. Lift you hips for me.”

He did as told and firmly planted his heels on either side of Jay, raising his hips off the mattress. Jay was coating himself thoroughly in Vaseline now. Nick watched enviously as Jay’s hands spread down his cock. Though he didn’t think it was possible, Nick’s dark member became harder against his stomach from watching Jay become slick. He hadn’t actually been able to look at Jay yet, what with Jay being on top of Nick the entire time. He was lean, but not in the way that Nick was. It was obvious he was still athletic, taut muscle stripped down his arms and legs, not bulging but obviously there. Sturdy and fair, his golden head gleamed pale in the moonlight filtering into the room. Once again, Nick considered just how beautiful Gatsby was. He had always thought so but this was beauty in a different light. This was dominant. In control. Safe. But safe wasn’t quite what concerned him right now. What concerned him was that Gatsby was too far away, even if just a few inches.

“Jay,” he moaned again, “I need you now Jay!”

“Don’t wear out my name now, Nick. I want you screaming it all night.”

And he was, even at the first thrust of Jay inside of him. It was a damn good idea to stretch him out first because even then Nick wasn’t quite as ready for Jay’s cock as he thought he was. It filled him entirely, stretching him in a way he never thought possible. Surely he would burst. Nick clung to Jay as if for dear life as his thrusts came gentle and slow. Too slow. “No that’s fine,” Nick’s breath hitched as Jay pushed inside of him again, “Just plod along.” Satire dripped from his voice. Jay laughed, dark and deep, into the energized air between them. “Impatient? I am too.” Nick cried out as Jay started to really fuck him. Nick rocked his hips back to meet Jay for every thrust, sheathing him further inside each time. Jay shifted with each thrust, searching for-

“Oh god!  _Oh Jay!”_

 _There it is._ He slammed into that earth-shattering spot over and over with everything he had. Nick was damn near to screaming his name, the bed rocking wildly beneath them. Nick’s blunt finger tips dug into his back, almost painful, definitely euphoric. It was all becoming too much. How tight Nick was around his cock, the mewls of “Jay” hitting his ears. Everything was Nick; he was everywhere. Wrapped around Jay, inside and out. That skin, so smooth, so untouched, melted under his fingers. Those surprisingly agile hips connecting with Jay’s as they both neared the climax of their night. He dropped his lips once more to Nick’s neck, teeth grazing against his Adam’s apple tantalizingly, tonguing the silky skin. He growled at the invasive thought of the possibility that someone else might’ve touched Nick in this way, seen all he had seen. No. Nick was his now and he was Nick’s. He would make sure of it. His thrusts became more erratic, Nick shuddering underneath him. 

“Jay,” he choked out. “I-I-  _Jay!”_

” _Nick!”_

That was it for Nick. Hearing Jay call out his name, call him Nick so wantonly, it was too much. He arched his back with a cry, spilling across both his and Jay’s chests. After that, Jay wasn’t good for much either. Nick had clenched around Jay in his own waves of pleasure, spiraling Jay into orgasm. He called out for Nick again as he came deep inside. They let their orgasms shatter them together, gripping to each other, every inch of their bodies stuck together. Jay rolled off of him and drew Nick close into his side. 

“I think that’s the best thing that’s happened to me since I came to New York,” Nick hummed into Gatsby’s neck, hand sliding onto Jay’s chest. He grimaced and lifted his hand to look at it. “We should probably clean up.” 

“In just a moment, Nick.”

Nick hummed at the sound of his name again, and planted minute kisses along Jay’s jawline.  Jay rolled into his side suddenly, facing Nick full on. His hand traced down his side, coming to rest on his hip. “You’ll stay with me tonight, won’t you?” Nick smiled, landing his next kiss on Jay’s lips. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop! There it is. I think I delayed this chapter longer than I should have but hey! I got it out eventually! I also wrote this really late at night on mobile so if there are any errors, please forgive.


	8. A Different Kind of Gatsby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. It was a crazy week. I spent a night in the ER and I’ve been recovering all week and haven’t really had the chance to post. But I’m all better now so it’s back to natsby. Heads up, this chapter starts a couple months later from where we left the boys.

Any sign of Jay’s usual confident composure was gone tonight. It had started to dissipate with the sun as it began to sink lower. He had given up trying to occupy his mind with other things as the day grew later. Nick was supposed to be home hours ago. They had plans to go up in the hydroplane. Special plans but of course, Nick didn’t know that they were special. Jay sighed, resigning himself as the stones of his palace turned red in the sunset. The summer season was coming up on New York again after the best winter of Gatsby’s life. A winter of passionate nights spent huddled by the fireplace, of strolls through a park dripped in white, of every day spent by each other’s side when they were able. Jay had decided that requitted Love was much better than pining. Nick also made for a much better roommate than Klipspringer. Much more present to say the least. And while Nick still technically lived across the way, he was spending all his time at Gatsby’s house. 

“Mr. Gatsby. Call for you.”

“Thank you Edgar.”

Nick’s whisper met him on the other end of the line. “Jay, I’m sorry big timer! I know we had plans tonight. Things at the office-”

“Don’t worry about it, Old Sport! Tomorrow is there for a reason. You will be home for dinner though?”

”Absolutely.”

“I’ll see you soon then, Darling.”

 Jay gently placed the phone back, the click bouncing off the too empty halls. Tonight of all nights Nick had to stay late. Not his fault, Jay knew that, but still. He smiled to himself as he made his way to his room. It seemed that whenever he made big elaborate plans concerning Nick, they were always derailed. He had planned to tell him he loved him at the climax of a party all those months ago, with the music and fireworks and each a fresh glass of champagne. And look how that turned out. Not entirely unagreeable. In fact, Jay much preferred the unplanned version. With that in mind, he changed peacefully for dinner. If it had turned out well last time, this time would be no different. 

***

Jay gave Nick’s cheek a loud smooch when he finally walked in an hour later. 

“I thought we’d eat  _al fresco_ tonight,” Jay put an arm around Nick and lead him to the back balcony. Nick laughed and leaned up to return the sentiment. 

“Alright, but let me wash up first! You look like a dream and I’ve got the smell of that damned office all over me!” Nick slipped out of Gatsby’s arm and hurried off to “their” room. “Wear the new shirt I got you!” Jay called after him. Nick threw a wink over his shoulder. “Oh yes,” Gatbsy hummed to himself, slipping his hands into his pockets. 

“He’s the one.”

 ***

Stars served as their dinner guests as the finished up a particularly delicious dinner. The food at Gatsby’s was always superior, but tonight was on tier with fiver star restaurants. Luckily, there was only a slight breeze as well, keeping away the hot late spring. Nick sighed happily and reached across the table to grasp Jay’s hand. “You’ve no idea how much I needed that. Especially after today.” Jay squeezed the hand back, fondly staring after Nick. “Tell me about it.”

”Well,” Nick started, clicking his tongue. He went off on a spiel of unfortunate clients, airy coworkers, demands, profits, hours, and so on. And though he could tell Jay didn’t really understand, he kept going because he seemed to genuinely care, nodding, frowning and laughing in the right places. But always was a look of nervous happiness on his face. He kept fidgeting from wiping his free hand on his leg to squiggling in his chair. Until Nick would squeeze his hand and it was back to earth for Jay. It was after his final story and a minute of silence did Nick ask, “What are you thinking Jay?”

”Hmm?”

”You’ve got bunny eyes. Get lost in that big brain of yours?” Jay laughed and placed his other hand on top of theirs. “I’m sorry Old Sport. I was just thinking...well, how beautiful you are.” Nick went bright red and put his head in his hand. “Jay you can’t say things like that!” Jay just laughed again and let go of Nick’s hand. 

“Even if it’s true?”

”Even if it’s true.”

”Then I can’t say how much I love you. How happy you make me and how I haven’t stopped soaring since the first time I held your hand.”

”...no you can. Say more things like that.” Nick smiled across at him, settling in for one of Jay’s tangents. He always had the most hopeful thoughts about everything. And after a day in the wild world of bonds, he could use a nice dinner and Gatsby philosophy and he was already halfway there. Jay stood and walked around to his side of the table. In a hybrid of sitting and leaning, he lounged against the table next to Nick, looking out across his property. He was no longer smiling, but brow furrowed in thought. With a deep breath, he started again. 

“From our first flight in the hydroplane to the countless afternoon tea’s, I can now freely admit I don’t drink tea  _that_ much, to our first night together,” Jay looked at him now. Well, sort of looked at him. More like at the buttons of his shirt than at his face, “I have lived for every single second I’ve spent with you. Loved it too. For five years, I was waiting. I always thought I had been waiting for Daisy but now I realize....I was just waiting for you.” Nick blinked away any tears that might have been welling up and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. 

“What are you trying to say?” 

Jay pulled out a small black box from his pocket and placed it on the table before Nick. Nick looked wildly up at Jay for explanation...for confirmation. 

“What?” he breathed. Jay looked as if he were about to bolt for one moment but the next the words tumbled out of his mouth. 

“Nick Carraway I love you. I always will, even when we’re no longer young or beautiful. The only thing I want is to spend the rest of my life with you. Up until it’s last beat, this heart belongs entirely to you. But do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?” 

“Yes!” Nick practically shouted. Jay’s eyes widened. “Really? Because I was prepared to fight for you if you said n-”

”Yes!” Nick cried again, leaping up and crashing his lips into Jay’s. A happy whimper passed from Jay’s lips as he pulled Nick closer to himself. They stayed that way for a long time, simply holding each other under the glow of the night. 

“Can I?” Jay breathed when they broke apart, grabbing the forgotten box. Nick nodded, his heart stuttering as Jay slipped a plain gold band onto his finger. The gold caught the light of the moon, turning it silver as he held out his hand to see how it looked. His hand fell against the breast of Jay’s evening suit, rising and falling with his breath. 

“Is this why you wanted to go up in the hydroplane?” Nick laughed, hands sliding up behind Jay’s neck. The following pout only made him laugh harder. 

“Don’t mock!” Jay went in for another kiss, one with a little more expertise. His hands traced down Nick’s sides to his hips. He smirked at the way, even after countless times of doing so, the action still made Nick’s breath catch in his throat. “What say we mark the occasion?” He murmured into Nick’s mouth. Nick only hummed in agreement. 

***

”Jay wake up!” 

It was still dark when Jay finally found the inner strength to open his eyes. 

“Nick?” The man in question was leaning over him, hair still messed up from Gatsby’s pillow, among other things. He had a stern, nearly fearful glint in his eyes, even visible in no light. “What on earth?”

”We can’t.”

”Can’t what?” Jay rolled over. 

“Get married.” That woke him up. He sat up to be level with Nick, face angelic in the single beam streaming through a window. 

“Wh-”

”We’ll get caught, be tried for sodomy, and you’ll be ruined!” 

Jay smiled and ran a hand through Nick’s hair. 

“We could just as easily be tried for sodomy now. Do you want to stop seeing me?”

”....no.” Nick turned away, unabated. 

“Good because that’s the only thing that could truly ruin me,” Jay placed a soft kiss on the back of his Nick’s neck. “I know we can’t legally be married, but I swear to you, everything about our relationship will be a marriage, just without the official papers.” Nick sighed. Jay wasn’t going to give up until his fiancé was once again happy with their arrangement and dreaming in his arms. 

“Buck up Old Sport!” Jay squeezed Nick to his side. Still, the frown stayed. Less severe, but still there. Jay began to sing softly and not at all beautifully. 

“ _Smile And show your dimple,_ ” 

“Stop.”

” _You’ll find it’s very simple,_ ”

”Jay,” Nick warned, smiling beginning to grow. 

“ _Chase away the wrinkle. Sprinkle just a twinkle. Light up your face, just brace up for a smile!”_ Nick turned to kiss Jay, smile still in place. 

“See? It worked!”

”It was only to shut you up. You’re no Sam Ash.” 

Jay pretended to be offended and flopped back down onto the bed. 

“I’m offended, Mr. Carraway, truly offended!” 

“No,” Nick chuckled settling back into the crook of Jay’s arm, folding into his side neatly, “It’s Mr. Gatsby.” His heart thumped heart against his chest and for a moment he was afraid of disturbing the drowsy Nick, now comfortably wrapped around him. After a few minutes of silence, Jay thought Nick had fallen asleep. But the hand over his heart stretched, ring flashing with it. “Nick Gatsby,” Nick yawned by his ear. “I like the sound of that.”

”I love it, Mr. Gatsby.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it! A happy end for happy boys...finally. I’m so sorry it took so long to bang out this conclusion. I also wanted to have a new piece up and running before I ended this one. My latest work in progress is called Path To You. I’ll try to have a regular updating schedule for that one. Thanks to everyone who has read this and stuck with me to the end! I loved reading your comments and responses! Hopefully I’ll see more of you all! ❤️


	9. Chapter 9

> I was missing this fic this week so I drew a little something something from my favorite chapter! It’s not the best, but hey, I tried! I do take inspiration from many MANY other artists and I in no way want people to think I’m stealing their art from them. I am also completely tech clueless so I have no idea how to post the art on here so I will leave my tumblr below in the notes and you can find my art there! Lots of love again to everyone who read and loved this fic and I hope to get out my new work soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @sewer-seance   
> sewer-seance.tumblr.com


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